D.O.A. Page #5

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- Got any better ideas?

- Yeah! Logic.

-There's gotta be a reason for all this.

-Yeah.

My Mark Twain lecture drove

some student into a homicidal rage.

Syd, guys like me,

we get killed by muggers...

run over by cars maybe, but nobody

plots to kill an English professor.

We just don't inspire

that kind of passion.

The killing didn't start with you.

- Nick Lang.

- Right. So who would want him dead?

Hey, you know, sometimes cops go

to the funerals of murder victims.

What? Wait, wait.

You mean we're going to the funeral...

and you think the killer's

gonna be there?

Yeah. Get in.

There's a hell of a strange story

behind that kid.

So this thief breaks into

the Fitzwaring house, you see.

The old man wakes up. He's upstairs,

comes down, he surprises the guy.

Thief shoots the old man, right?

The chauffeur, he hears all this,

he comes running in.

Uh, he grabs the gun,

and there's a struggle.

- Wait a minute.

I can't go in there like this.

- What?

Oh.

Here.

Like this. Here.

- So-So, wait, there's a struggle?

- Yeah.

For the gun. The gun goes off.

It kills the burglar.

- And the burglar is Nick's father?

- Yeah.

Now, the widow, Mrs Fitzwaring...

she makes a special

pet charity case out of Nick.

- She put him through college.

- I never heard this.

Well, it's not exactly something

you want under your yearbook picture.

So you think all this

has to do with Nick, don't you?

- Hal.

- What are you doing here?

Are you crazy?

- Meet Syd.

- Hi. We're inseparable.

- Hi. Those two cops are looking

all over the place for you.

- Who?

- Tweedledum and Tweedle-dumber?

- Yeah. They even notifiied

campus security.

- You gotta get outta here, man.

- I gotta pay my respects.

- You fiind something out?

- Yeah. I'm not gettin' any younger.

- Nothing I can do?

- Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

What's the deal here?

You got a fiiver on you?

Will you pay him for me, please?

A father whose only legacy

was the stigma of his terrible crime.

One would like to think that Nick not

only found himself here at the school...

but also that he'd found a home here.

And judging by the turnout tonight...

I'd say he had.

It was a pleasure to have Nick

in my Shakespeare class.

Perhaps only the bard can explain

Nick's unexplainable choice.

''To sue to live,

I fiind I seek to die.

And seeking death, fiind life.

Let it come on.''

Miss Fitzwaring, I know you'd like

to say a few words.

- Nick would've loved--

- That's the girl in the bar.

That's Cookie Fitzwaring.

She's in my art class.

- My dear, may I--

- No-- No, you picked

the wrong play, Professor.

You should've quoted

from Romeo and Juliet.

Nick and I, we were--

Sh*t.

I know that guy.

He was in the bar last night.

- Your mother's waiting.

- So let her wait.

You f***ed things up royally tonight.

Don't I always?

You're still a few drinks short

of oblivion.

How's that little nasty burn

you got on your hand, pal?

-Jesus, Bernard!

- Your mother wasn't too thrilled

about you and Nick, was she?

- I don't think--

- I wouldn't brag about that.

- I loved Nick, and he loved me.

- Yeah, you and a few others.

- What do you know about him?

- I know he was murdered.

- We don't like what you're inferring.

- Bernard, I think you mean implying.

You see, when I say something,

that's implying.

- How you take it, that's inferring.

- Okay.

Then infer this.

Cookie! Hey, come here!

Where you going?

- Oh, God. We're back at the stage.

- Everybody's gone.

- Wait!

- Come on!

- Wait! Hold on!

- Come on!

- Wait!

- It's caught!

Help me! Please! Help!

Syd! Sydney! Where you going?

Where do you think?

To the police!

Sh*t. Wait, Sydney!

Give me a chance!

You know, I don't get off

on this Rambo sh*t.

I wanted to spend the night with you,

not eternity.

- Hey!

- Syd!

- Police!

- No police!

- Hey! Wait!

- Syd! Syd!

Wait. Wait.

Oh, my God, look at your arm.

I'm sorry.

Drop dead.

I didn't mean to say that.

I'm sorry.

So, what do you do now?

Find Mrs Fitzwaring

and that lunatic daughter of hers.

And what if the chauffeur

with the nail gun is waiting for you?

What have I got to lose, huh?

I've already screwed up my life

by giving up.

What do you mean?

I had just quit.

I was a success,

and I was afraid of failing and I--

So I just quit.

I wanna help you, Dex.

You already have.

- I feel really bad.

I-I-I dragged you too deep into this.

- No, no, it's no big deal, you know.

I mean, you just-- you just

glued yourself to me, you dragged me

out into the street half-naked...

you almost got me shot--

I mean, most girls wait a lifetime

for a date like this.

I gotta go.

It's getting late.

I'm not gonna see you again, am I?

Cab!

- Take her to the med centre.

- Wait a minute. Your jacket.

You need your jacket.

Now, don't worry.

I'll take care of everything.

''Don't worry''? That man

told you that Nick was murdered.

I didn't let the cat

out of the bag, did I?

What are you doing here?

- Professor Cornell, isn't it?

- Mm-hmm.

It was your wife who fell apart

at the art gallery yesterday evening.

Yes, and it was your Cookie

who crumbled at the memorial service.

Seems they both had a bad case

of young Mr Lang.

- What do you know about Nick?

- What do you think I know?

Cookie.

- I hope it's just you that's loaded.

- Cookie, what are you doing?

- What did you do, Mother?

- What exactly have you told her?

Enough.

And it all makes sense, too.

She forced Nick to stop seeing me.

What, so Nick was worthy

of your charity, but he wasn't worthy

of your daughter. Is that it?

The fact is that she considered Nick

too good for me.

- You're so wrong.

- No. I saw the way that

you used to look at him.

Your-- Your little diamond

in the rough.

You couldn't stand anyone else

taking an interest in him.

- And you were always jealous of us.

- Cookie, no.

She nearly flew into a rage when

she found out that we'd slept together.

Cookie! Stop this.

- See what I mean?

- Please.

I wouldn't do anything

just to hurt you.

But you did hurt me.

Why couldn't he see me?

Whatever I did, Cookie,

I did for you and Nick.

Believe me, he could never love you,

not the way that you wanted him to.

Not the way you wanted.

S-So you-- you had him killed.

You--

Cookie, come back!

Don't f*** with me, Bernard.

I've had a rough day.

All right.

Then have a little lie-down.

- God, it's all such a mess.

- Not at all. I won't leave a trace.

We don't even know if he can prove

anything, or even if he knows anything.

- Couldn't we just call in the police,

say there was a burglary, that--

- We've already used that story.

Whether he can prove anything or not,

we don't want the police

snooping into your past or Nick's.

- Look, it's simple.

We'll just take him out--

- Don't tell me.Just do it.

And bring Cookie back. In her state,

she's liable to say anything to anybody.

-How do you know that Nick was murdered?

-I'm psychic.

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